


How to Make Spaghetti Sexy

by melliejellie



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Daichi looks good in an apron, Fluff, M/M, New Relationship, Time-Skip, kitchen panic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29068209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melliejellie/pseuds/melliejellie
Summary: All Tsukishima wants to do is make one nice dinner for Daichi. His new boyfriend looks much too hot and adorable in his apron and the meals he makes are amazing. One problem. Tsukishima can't cook. At all.(Originally Written for Loveletters -- shippy size zine for Moonrise: A Tsukishima Zine)
Relationships: Sawamura Daichi/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 17
Kudos: 42





	How to Make Spaghetti Sexy

Seeing Daichi again for the first time in ages at the MSBY v. Adlers match wasn’t all that surprising.

Daichi asking him out at the end of the night, however, was a complete surprise.

Rosy-cheeked and smiling after the two of them had been talking alone for a while, Daichi had casually slid another kahlua and milk in front of him and said, “Tsukishima, I’d like to make you dinner sometime.”

Tsukishima nodded slowly, unable to fully process that his former captain, a now very handsome grown man, wanted to spend time with him.

Later when he was back home, Tsukishima reasoned that Daichi had probably meant to say “take you to dinner sometime” but that his tipsy state had made the words come out wrong.

But Daichi had, in fact, intended to make Tsukishima dinner.

And if Tsukishima’s brain hadn’t already been short-circuiting from the fact that Daichi wanted to ask him out, then it definitely went fully offline the moment Daichi opened his front door with a heart-print apron stretched around his muscular frame.

That first night in Daichi’s apartment, Tsukishima watched him finish cooking what Daichi described as “a simple pasta dish” that he made often for himself.

Tsukishima was actually served was a three course, restaurant-quality meal complete with tiramisu for dessert. The meal was amazing. Their conversation was more comfortable than he’d expected after all these years.

Daichi made him feel at ease, except for the fact that he kept the silly heart apron on all evening. Tsukishima’s heart was weak. Domestic Daichi was a sight to behold.

Tsukishima kissed him in his doorway after he put on his shoes to leave.

Daichi smiled and invited him over again.

For the second date, Daichi made tacos “because they’re fun!” For a moment, Tsukishima was tricked into thinking Daichi put a little less effort into this dinner, but then he pulled out homemade strawberry ice cream for dessert and Tsukishima melted.

That night the kisses in the doorway were a little more heated.

Yesterday, for their third date, they went to an art museum then walked back to Daichi’s place to have another home-cooked meal. That night it was chilly and Daichi set up a hot pot on his coffee table and they chatted while the meat and vegetables simmered between them.

There wasn’t any dessert, but they did tumble backwards onto Daichi’s couch and make out a little.

Tsukishima found it difficult to fall asleep because he kept remembering what the muscles in Daichi’s arms felt like beneath his fingers.

***

In the morning Tsukishima wakes up with the feeling that he dreamed something positively delicious last night but he can’t recall all the details. His body’s running warmer and his mind feels like it’s keeping a secret that he desperately wants to see.

There’s already a text from Daichi waiting for him when he sleepily unlocks his phone.

_Daichi >> Thanks for coming over last night. When can I see you again?_

Tsukishima lets out a soft sigh and holds his phone to his chest. He’s not sure exactly what Daichi saw in him that night all of Karasuno went out for drinks after the game, but he feels stupidly lucky.

Daichi doesn’t play any games. He’s so sincere that it’s painfully sweet. He wears heart aprons and knows how to cook. His smile is beautifully bright but the way his features darken when he pulls back from just having his tongue in Tsukishima’s mouth is somehow even more beautiful.

They haven’t said the word “boyfriend” yet, but Tsukishima already says it in his head.

If Daichi’s not going to be intentionally vague to guard himself, then Tsukishima’s going to do his best to do the same, however new it may be for him.

_< < I’m free on Wednesday night._

Hew chews on his lip as he battles within himself on whether or not to send the rest of what he’s thinking. It’s going to be way out of his comfort zone, but he doesn’t want everything to feel so one-sided.

So, he goes for it.

_< < Can I cook for you this time?_

The response is immediate.

_Daichi >> That would be wonderful._

Tsukishima lets himself have a moment to close his eyes and fantasize about the lovely evening he’ll provide when he comes over.

Then reality returns in a rush.

Because Tsukishima doesn’t cook.

***

Tsukishima contemplates asking his mother for a few recipes but worries that her son’s sudden interest in cooking will give her an easy opening into asking more questions about his life. Akiteru would be marginally better, but his brother is still far too interested in his little brother’s “mysterious” love life.

So he turns to the internet.

“Good food to cook for a date,” he mouths along with the words as he types them on his phone.

Lying back on his couch, he scrolls through the first page of results with overexcited titles like,

_“26 romantic dinners ANYONE can cook!”_  
_“Even YOU can serve up something sexy!!!!”_  
_“18 dinners that will knock his socks off *wink*”_

The last one makes him gasp a little. The stupid _*wink*_ at the end made his mind think of things. Very nice things. Much too forward things. Activities where Daichi loses his socks and then some.

He keeps scrolling, ignoring the way his heart rate has increased.

So many of the romantic dinners include cheese and Tsukishima can’t understand that at all. Is cheese a sexy food? It’s dense. It can make your breath weird. And in his case, can cause some unwanted gastrointestinal excitement.

No cheese.

There’s tons more with ingredients so bizarre he’s never heard of them. He also doesn’t want to buy something he’ll never use again.

So that’s a no.

There’s a bunch that just sound awful. On page three of his results he reads the words “low-maintenance but very chic kale risotto” and turns off his screen with a frustrated growl.

He closes his eyes and sighs, feeling a twinge of panic in his stomach.

He has to be overthinking this.

Swiping his screen on again, he types, “how to make spaghetti sexy.”

***

The day of, Tsukishima can’t decide which is worse -- cooking everything beforehand so he’s done but everything potentially might get cold or cooking in front of Daichi and looking like an idiot, but at least everything is fresh. He anxiously weighs the pros and cons all day but then his choice ends up being made for him when a meeting keeps him late.

Guess he’s cooking in front of Daichi.

When his doorbell rings, he’s already sweating and there’s nothing but still-packaged ingredients out on his counters.

Tsukishima looks down to make sure his outfit looks fine, a dark blue button down and jean in case he got any sauce on them, and decides to open the door casually holding a wooden spoon because that might look cute and like he knows his way around a kitchen.

He’s ready to welcome him in confidently, but then Daichi has the audacity to stand there in a tight t-shirt with a very soft looking cardigan overtop and Tsukishima loses the power of speech.

“Hi Tsukishima,” Daichi smiles. “Sorry I’m a few minutes late. But I brought a peace offering.” He holds up a bottle of red wine, one Tsukishima instantly recognizes as a blend he buys sometimes when he doesn’t want the cheap stuff but he can’t afford the higher shelf either.

“Don’t worry about it,” Tsukishima replies, hoping his face has produced a passably human smile, “I got home late from work, too. Just getting started. You can come on in. Get comfortable.”

Being in Daichi’s space was overwhelming in the best kind of way. Tsukishima saw all of his photos on the wall, the books on his shelves, his plants that needed watering, and he could smell him everywhere, a rich scent that lingered on his clothes for a day or two after.

Having Daichi in his space is somehow far more intimate. He watches Daichi nervously walk around his living room, fingers drumming on the wine bottle still in his hands.

Their eyes meet and they both let our nervous, shaky laughs.

“You can-- Kitchen. Come sit in the kitchen with me. My table is small, but I do, luckily, have two chairs.”

“Good. Yeah. You have wine glasses?”

“No. I usually just drink out of a mug,” Tsukishima admits, inwardly cringing.

But it makes Daichi smile. “Perfect. Two mugs of wine.”

Daichi settles in at Tsukishima's small table, his hands wrapped around an old mug from the Sendai Museum. Back and forth they chat about their days while Tsukishima attempts to look like he’s not completely out of his element. He reminds himself that he’s cooked plenty of times, well a handful of times, but never a nice meal, and never when he could feel an attractive man’s eyes on his back.

He peeks glances at the recipe he’s pulled up on his phone as he works.

He dumps in some ground beef and grimaces when he has to reach in and pull the small absorbent pad that fell out of the styrofoam tray along with the meat. As it sizzles he goes through the steps.

Season with salt.

Okay not enough.

Oh no, way too much.

It’ll cook out. Maybe. Hopefully.

The meat simmers in the pan and he keeps a watchful eye while he turns his attention to the onions he bought.

He’s already peeled off the thin, papery bits on the outside, so turns the onion over in his hands, not sure which side to cut from. He decides that diving in with certainty is better than looking like he’s pondering life while staring at an onion.

One cut, though, and he feels an immediate sting in his eyes.

“--then I had to-- You alright there?” Daichi interrupts himself with a chuckle.

Tsukishima sniffs. “Yeah. Just strong.” Incredibly strong. Ridiculously strong. He can feel a few tears leak from his eyes but now both of his hands are covered in onion juice so he can’t wipe them away. He tries to angle his shoulder to use his shirt, but his glasses get in the way.

Suddenly Daichi’s voice is much closer. “Need some help?”

Tsukishima jumps, realizing how near he is, but he nods with a weak laugh. “Yeah,” he sniffs again, “thanks.”

Daichi laughs again and the sound is lovely, even when the onion’s curse is still melting his eyes.

It turns out to be a blessing in disguise. Once Daichi invites himself into his space, he chooses to stay. With their mugs of wine at the ready, Daichi steps in as “a helper,” letting Tsukishima take the reigns even though it must be obvious to him now that Daichi knows more about cooking than he does.

Undoubtedly, their dinner would come out better if Daichi worked alone, but instead he simply cuts the things Tsukishima asks him to, fetches water to boil the pasta, and maybe sneaks in a stir or two when he thinks the sauce needs it.

Tsukishima waits for the moment when having Daichi so close will make his heart thud around in his chest, but the effect of him is the opposite. Though his feet are tired from a long day, though he was stressed about how cooking for him would turn out, now that the moment’s here, having Daichi move beside him in a delicate dance around his tiny kitchen is soothing in a way he hadn’t expected.

Until Daichi goes hunting in his fridge for cheese to grate into the sauce.

“No cheese!” Tsukishima shouts with an intensity that has Daichi grinning.

Before long, each part of the meal is finished and Daichi sits back down at the table to wait for Tsukishima to plate the dishes how he’d like.

When he looks at the two wide, white bowls filled with pasta he knows that Daichi helped a lot, but he can’t help but feel a little bit proud. For someone who hasn’t cooked for himself in weeks, it doesn’t look half bad. He grabs the pre-cut, crusty bread from the store and places it at the center of his small table between their plates.

Tsukishima sits in the same chair he does every single night, but when he looks up and sees Daichi, everything in this kitchen feels wildly new and wonderful. He catches himself staring but finds it hard to look at anything else except for Daichi looking so content at his table.

“So when’s the next home Frogs’ game?” Daichi asks before taking a bite of his pasta and humming like it’s far more delicious than Tsukishima knows it is.

Tsukishima feels his ears going red at the tips.

There’s sauce on Daichi’s chin and he wants so badly to reach over and gently swipe it away.

“This Saturday.”

“Can I come?”

He can’t stop the grin that starts to form at the corner of his mouth. “You’d like to?”

“Oh absolutely. I was going to just search for the schedule and show up, but then I thought maybe I should ask if you want me to come first.”

The way Daichi smiles at him while he waits for his response makes him feel warm and tingly down to his fingertips.

“I don’t mind,” he replies in a voice so soft it surprises him.

“Great,” Daichi nods, clearly excited as he stabs his fork into his bowl and wraps another bite of pasta around it. “I can’t wait to see what kind of player you are now.”

The thought of Daichi watching him play makes the bright red heat on his ears start to creep towards his face. He can only hope it’s not as noticeable with the way his longer hair covers part of his face as he stares at his plate.

“There’s not much to see.”

“Oh I doubt that,” Daichi says, his voice dropping lower, “I think there’s lots that I’d like to see about you now.”

Tsukishima’s eyes snap up to meet his. There’s an unmistakable glint in Daichi’s eyes.

“I could say the same.”

Daichi chooses that moment to lick the small dot of sauce from just beyond his lips and Tsukishima comes to the conclusion that spaghetti is a surprisingly sexy dish.

He has half a mind to feel mortified that the warmth on his skin must be very obvious to Daichi by now, but he can’t find it in himself to care. Especially not when he seems to find ways to fluster the other man, too.

“I cheated and bought dessert,” Tsukishima announces towards the end of their meal.

Full and content, settled back in his chair, Daichi perks up. “Strawberry shortcake?”

“How’d you know?”

Tsukishima catches a faint, rosy pink start to stretch up from the collar of Daichi’s t-shirt. 

“I remembered,” he admits.

Later they tumble backwards on his couch this time and make out a little more, adding some extra sweetness to their dessert. Tsukishima decides that Daichi tastes even better with fresh strawberries still lingering on his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> *screams in DaiTsukki* I love this ship. Daichi's just so earnest yet shockingly hot...Tsukishima doesn't stand a chance. He simply has to fall madly in love.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments, kudos, and bookmarks make me smile! (And I always reply to comments...even if it takes me a while!)
> 
> Chat with me on Twitter - [@HeyMellieJellie](https://twitter.com/HeyMellieJellie). I scream about haikyuu a lot.


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